


chivalry fell on its sword

by horchatita394



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Big Brother Len, Eobard Thawne is a Class A Creep, F/M, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Regency Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-04-30 10:31:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 22,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5160473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horchatita394/pseuds/horchatita394
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on filledwiththislight's prompt: Regency era!ColdFlash where Barry is the only son of a Count who was arrested and tried for murder of his wife, and Barry took on the title really young, with Joe being his Castellan and raising him to be a good lord. Only there’s a clause in Barry’s inheritance that states he has to be married by the time he’s 26 to another member of the nobility or he loses his rights to his title and lands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Barry looks down at the note in his hands, the words blurring away as he reads them over and over again, the neat tight script turning into thick black lines.

“I don’t understand,” he says, finally looking up towards the messenger, “my birthday is not for another two months.”

In front of him, hands clasped tightly in front of himself, Eddie Thawne sighs. His eyes are heavy with sympathy. He opens and closes his mouth slightly once and then twice, looking for the right words, Barry assumes.

“The Duke of Wells has said, in confidence,” Eddie whispers and looks pointedly at Barry until he nods his discretion, “he has mentioned that he has been very patient with you but that he will not risk being seen as a desperate choice.”

Barry wants to crush the heavy card-stock in his hands and he wants to say out loud what both of them know, The Duke of Wells _is_ a desperate choice, a last inescapable resort.

He takes a deep breath. “Tell the Duke that I will give him my answer in a fortnight, as he requests.”

Eddie nods and they look at one another for a long moment before Barry huffs out a laugh. “Oh come now, you’re not waiting for me to dismiss you?”

“Well, I am here in an envoy’s capacity, my Lord.” Eddie teases.

“Go on now,” Barry says, ushering him out of his study, “we both know what you’re doing here anyway.”

“Where is she?” Eddie asks, dropping all pretense.

Barry shrugs in a manner he has been warned is most unbecoming of his station. “The library, the stables? Your guess is as good as mine.”

“May I tell her?" Eddie asks before clarifying, "what the note says I mean.”

“Oh, Eddie stop acting as if we were strangers," Barry tuts, "we both know you will tell her whether I give my leave or not.”

“I must practice my courtesies,” Eddie says with a raised eyebrow, “my Lord Uncle will not stand for this kind of familiarity when you are his husband.”

“ _If_ ,” Barry says, with strength he does not feel, “if I am his husband.”

“Take all the time you have, my friend,” Eddie says gently, before bowing with a wink and running off in search of Iris.

* * *

It must be a full hour and no steps towards a decision later that Joe comes in, looking worried and disapproving.

“So, is it true then? You have less time than you thought.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he admits glumly, looking out towards the grounds, certain if he looks at Joe he’ll bawl like the little child he once was.

“You’ll do what you must,” Joe says with serenity, “whatever you feel is right.”

“How can anything be right?” Barry asks as he turns to face him.

“If I do not marry him, then I will lose the title. And if I lose the title, I will lose the lands. What will happen to all of those people? Of course the county could be given to another, better master. But what if it isn’t? What if I leave these people to their fates and it all turns out horribly? They are my responsibility.”

“So marry him,” Joe says simply, as if it were that simple.

The law was barbaric, but it was the law. It was meant to keep young women in check and away from fortunes of their own but sometimes, in some cases, it ensnared young men as well. Barry found the law repulsive both ways, but it couldn't be helped and it called for him to be married before the day of his twenty-sixth birthday lest he forfeit his name and his lands.

“You’ve heard his terms a dozen times, Joe! He won’t have you here. Or Iris, or Miss Snow, or Cisco. He won’t have any of you. He won’t have any of my household. He’ll send you all away and I may never see you again.”

Barry could not understand why, but the man was insistent. Eobard Thawne, Duke of Wells, was happy to do him the honor and mercy of marrying him and saving him from ruin – but at the cost of every bit of family Barry had in this world. Joseph, his guardian, along with his beloved Iris would be sent away for being associated with Barry’s father. His most trusted friend Cisco would be turned out for being foreign and untrustworthy. The county’s most clever schoolteacher Ms. Snow would be dismissed for being “a scandalous lady”. The Duke would not abide Barry's household to remain, choosing to replace everyone in the staff and service with new people of his own. He also would not allow for Professor Stein to continue his tutelage, for he could not stand the thought of it being known that his young husband still held a tutor. In short, Eobard Thawne would marry him and save his county’s people from destitution, but at the price of everyone Barry loved.

“Barry,” Joe says, his voice so full of emotion that Barry might just cry after all. Joe comes closer and clasps a hand on his shoulder. “Barry, you are like a son to me, you know that much. That will be true no matter where I am. And if you need me, if you are unhappy, you can always call for me and I will always come.”

“I still do not know what to do,” Barry whispers.

“And it is still your choice,” Joe reminds him. “But I know the man I had the honor of raising is capable of this choice and many more difficult ones. All you need to do is remember that.”

“Can’t I hope for a miracle? Pray more than I ever have before?”

Joe laughs and pulls Barry into a hug. “Oh my Barry, of course you can. If anyone can hope a miracle into existence it’s you.”  

* * *

Barry spends the rest of the day in listless spirits, lost in thought.

“Francisco, it really isn’t the time for your predictions,” Professor Stein was saying.

“It isn’t one of my predictions,” Cisco insisted, “it is unseasonably cold tonight and there’s an old story –“

“Cisco,” Joe cuts in, “I don’t think we’re in the mood for old stories today.”

“Barry,” Iris says softly from across the table. “You look exhausted, maybe you should go to bed.”

Joe agreed with her, of course, as did everyone else in turn. After a moment Barry sighed and pushed his plate away, excusing himself to head upstairs.

“Barry,” Ms. Snow calls out just as he makes to exit the dining hall.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say that… we know you have a difficult choice to make. You have a fortnight, so take a fortnight. Don’t give up just yet. And no matter what you choose, we will … we will stand by your decision.”

Barry smiles at her as best he can and nods. “Thank you, Caitlin. If you will all excuse me I think I will go to bed. Cisco is right, after all, there is a strange chill to the air tonight.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support, everyone!

“Lenny!” Lisa calls out, walking down the drive much too quickly given the volume of her skirts. He winces and huffs out a breath as she comes to stand before him, dropping her parasol right onto the dirt. “You’ve certainly taken your time coming home.”

“I do recall ordering you stop calling me that where people can hear you,” he says as he rolls his eyes at her.

“And I do recall you are well aware of what I like to do with orders,” she says with a perfunctory shrug. “Now give me a kiss or I’ll have to shout from the balcony that my brother _Lenny_ is returned.”

He sighs heavily, but it is all for show now as he leans in and kisses the top of her head.

“I see you’ve outgrown this gown.”  He says as he takes a good look at her. Lisa spins for him and laughs.

“This? I’ve just bought it,” she says proudly, even as she adjusts a slipping strap. “I had Mick sell a horse for it.”

“A horse?” he asks, trying not to sound too alarmed. “Which one?”

“An expensive one,” she says coolly, only breaking into a smile after a full half minute.

“Oh, do be calm,” she teases, “it is back in the stables is all that matters.”

“I warned you about doing business while I was away,” he mutters as he ushers her back up the drive towards the small house.

“I warned you about staying away too long,” she mutters right back.

When he opens the doors to their home he is met by a veritable mountain of weaponry, held precariously atop a probably ruined table of polished mahogany. What he expected, leaving Lisa and Mick alone for so many months, well he had no idea. A scandal, maybe, or a house fire. He should have known.

“Mr. Rory,” he says, trying to make evident how utterly unimpressed he is by the display. “Care to explain?”

The man looks up from the broken lantern with which he is entertaining himself, but only for a moment. “I assume she told you about the horse, _my Lord_.”

Oh, well, if that was the mood he was in.

“She did, Mr. Rory – but I do not think that explains why you’ve ruined the last piece of her mother’s dowry,” he says as he motions at the scratched table.   

Mick raises his eyes once again, but this time he only gives a short grunt to indicate he has no interest in explaining further.

Len turns to Lisa who is dusting off her parasol on the scuffed floors.

“Was I _so_ missed?”

“We were _so_ bored,” she says with a scowl that should be unbecoming, “for we may not do business without you.”

“And yet the horse,” he half-asks. 

“I could not stand to wear rags anymore,” she answers, unapologetic.

He raises a skeptical eyebrow at her, for he knows Lisa has never owned anything that could be described as rags.

“And you entertained her caprice,” Len notes with an accusatory glance at Mick.

“Had fun getting the horse back,” the man says with no remorse.

Lisa has the gall to laugh again and lean in to kiss his cheek. “Welcome home, brother.”

* * *

If he is honest with himself, he is not as happy with their circumstances as he could be. They want for nothing, he makes sure of that. Nothing except a house to be proud of, the ability to walk with impunity into clubs and balls, and the freedom to spend their money at will. However, he is never quite as honest about it as Lisa is.

“I am quite finished with pretending to be this poor,” she says as she eyes the plates their meals are served on. But they must use these old out of fashion plates on this now-scuffed table in this tiny house, lest the cook and maids go talking about town, saying that the Marquis Snart has found his fortunes the same way his father lost them. The title was all that Len could cling to when the lenders came to collect his dead father’s debts. It is all he has still, in the eyes of the law and good company.

“You would not have to in the islands,” he reminds her. But Lisa makes the same face she does every single time he brings up the possibility.

“I will not leave for islands unknown where some malignant creature can give me the fever and render me dead in a fortnight!” She says, nearly in one breath. “And can you imagine Mick in warmer climates? Everything would end in cinders.”

“Well, I have luxuries for you to enjoy elsewhere, Lisa. But if you refuse to leave," he concedes, "then I hope you have some better idea.”

“I do,” she says with a mischievous grin, “I am so delighted you asked.”

“I did not ask,” Len says, but he knows that it is completely futile now.

“Do you remember that little Lord you had a run in with, oh... it must have been a year ago? You must remember, Lenny, you went on about it for months and mon-“

“Yes,” Len says quickly cutting her off, “I do recall.”

She looks like a cat with a mouse between her paws.

“And you remember his predicament of course.”

“He has to marry to keep his fortune, it is not so much of a predicament,” he huffs, “many boys must.”

“Indeed,” she says with a heavy look. He knows what she’s thinking, of course he does – it is his business to understand every twitch of his sister’s face and every meaning, but he won’t give into her implications so easily.

“What,” he finally says when her silence becomes irritating. “Is there something interesting about his chosen spouse?”

He tries to keep his tone bored, uninterested, even though the thought of whom the boy could have ended up marrying has tumbled in his mind like a pest much too often during this past voyage.

“Nothing at all,” she says, picking at the frayed lace of the table cloth, “for he has not yet married.”

Len raises an eyebrow, unable to contain his interest. “Well, he cannot have much time left.”

Now Lisa begins to grin. “Indeed, he does not. Word has it there is an offer from a much older gentleman. A Duke, no less. But that the boy is unhappy with it. The reason for his unhappiness is not as widely known, of course. But one figures it is the age of the man …”

“Why are you telling me this then,” Len says, as if he could not follow her reasoning.

“Oh, come off it Len,” she says as she bats her eyelashes and takes his hand. “It is such a beautiful county, and such a beautiful boy too…”

Len looks away from her, not wanting to let her win just yet. “Well if you wanted to marry up, sister dear, you need only say.”

“Len,” she says, in a tone that might sound beseeching to anyone but himself. To him it only sounds victorious. “The boy does not need fortune, he has plenty. He needs only someone with a title, someone who does not object to all of that…unpleasantness with his father. And if that someone is a handsome devil, all the more likely the boy will say yes. Is it not?”

“Lisa,” he starts-

“Do not try to dissuade her,” Mick says as he enters the room, “if we want to be at that little Lord’s county by mid-week we need to put wheels in the dirt.”

Len looks between the two of them, eyes shifting from one to the other. “Were you plotting the entire time I was away or is this a recent development?”

“After a week,” Lisa says pleasantly, “before the horse. I was very nearly worried you would not be home by the end of this month.”

He sits speechless, staring after Mick as he no doubt heads out to ready the coach.

“I told you, brother dear,” Lisa says as she grabs a plate from the middle of the table and smashes it against the floor in one deliberate flick of her wrist. “You should not have been gone so long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Slythatheart for vetting literally EVERY SENTENCE.


	3. Chapter 3

At breakfast, Barry stands and plants his hands on the table which catches everyone’s attention. Their morning conversation pauses and they all look up at him. He looks over all of their faces:  Joseph, Iris, Cisco, Caitlin, Ronald, and Professor Stein. This is his family. Not the mention the dozens of maids, footmen, cooks, grooms, and everyone that he’d grown up with and _their_ families. The words catch in his throat but he takes a breath and faces them.

“I know that you all know this, but I had to – take a moment to say it out loud. There are at least four and twenty families in the immediate county alone, not to mention the surrounding parishes. All of these people depend on the stability of this County and by extension myself. I cannot – I am not allowed to take full possession of my father’s land and money without first marrying someone of my rank or higher – many must do the same. But I… I’ve failed you all.”

“Barry," Iris starts, coming to her feet before Barry raises a palm to stop her.

“I will never be sure what I could have done better, if I – if I had been more charming or more clever or less clever or more pleasing to look at. If I had denied my father’s innocence when I know it to be true. I know not what it is I could have done to secure more suitors, more options so that we could stay together - but the truth of the matter is I have failed and so now…now this is the only choice.”

“Barry,” Cisco says, shaking his head when Barry tries to stop him. “You did nothing wrong and you have never failed us or your father or anyone.”

Barry fears he might break into tears so he closes his eyes and nods only once. “Thank you.”

He knows it is Joe’s hand on his shoulder then and his deep and tender voice at his ear. “I could not be more proud of the selflessness of your choice. Remember what I said, we will be with you at a moment’s call, no matter where we are.”

He nods again and takes a deep long breath before he opens his eyes again. “Eddie will be here in a moment to take my word back to his uncle and I – I will accept his offer-"

“My Lord,” a small voice says from the doorway.

Barry looks over. It is the cook’s little boy in his pageboy’s clothes. Barry hopes wherever they go the boy will be allowed to continue his studies.

“Yes, Matthew?”

“There’s someones at the door my Lord,” the little one says.

“Someone,” Caitlin tells the boy softly, a small smile on her lips. “You mean someone.”

The little boy shakes his head violently. “No ma’am, no. There’s not one someone there are three someones.” He raises three chubby fingers and nods.

Barry frowns down at the table. “That is unlike Eddie, to come accompanied without word.”

Still, he pushes back his chair and stands while trying to bite back a smile as the rest of the table follows. What a sight they must make crowding towards the sitting room, their respective breakfasts all but forgotten. Barry waits, Joe’s hand on his shoulder and Iris holding her breath and Cisco muttering his disbelief at the whole situation.

Guthrie, one of the oldest men working in the house – there since the times of Barry’s grandfather – enters ahead of Eddie and his companions, but everyone from Professor Stein to Barry himself move back as one in shock when Guthrie welcomes the new comers. Where they expect Eddie to come with unknowns, there stand two men and one woman. The men are imposing and the woman is…well, also imposing. There is something sharp and cutting in her eyes and those of one of the men. The third’s, Barry thinks, seem undecipherable.

Guthrie clears his throat.

“My Lord Allen,” he says with a bow. "The Most Honourable Marquis Snart, the Lady Lisa Snart, and Mister Michael Rory.”

Barry is frozen in place in a way he never has been before. It takes Joe’s elbow at his side to remind him of himself.

He bows, not too low but low enough for a person of the Marquis’ standing. “Lord Snart, we were… not expecting you.”

Iris is the one to connect her elbow with his other side.

“I – I mean this is a most delightful surprise,” he amends quickly.

Behind him his household is uncharacteristically quiet, in front of him his guests display a range of amusement from Mr. Rory who appeared not remotely entertained, to Lady Lisa who seemed most openly pleased, to the Marquis himself whose expression Barry could not begin to guess at.

“Lord Allen,” the man says with a brief almost thoughtless inclination of his head. “Do excuse our…unannounced arrival. We would have sent some warning but you see, I’ve only just returned from some time abroad and I hear you have a predicament of a timely nature.”

Barry blinks in surprise, felled once more by the shock of the situation. Behind him he hears Caitlin clear her throat and step forward.

“My Lord, my Lady, good sir,” she says in turn, “I do beg your leave on behalf of us all, this is a private matter.”

Barry, of course, doesn’t bring up the silly fact that they had all been gathered for this very matter just a moment ago.

“Of course,” the man says with a quick smile.

Barry hears everyone scuttle away behind him, everyone but Joe. Barry looks up at him, but Joe is only looking at Lord Snart and his companions with evident suspicion. Barry thinks it is most unlike Joe to give such a display.

“We’ll only talk,” he tells Joe softly, “I can handle this on my own. Please. Keep a lookout for Eddie.”

Joe wrenches his eyes away from the group but Barry can see, it is an effort.

“Strike no deals with him,” Joe whispers, “not until we’ve time to speak.”

Barry nods once and watches as Joe walks away, closing the door behind him.

Looking back at his guests he can see the way the young woman takes an appreciative look about the room, seemingly happy with what she sees. The man with them, Mr. Rory, seems to have no opinion at all on their surroundings. But the Marquis himself, with those cutting and penetrating eyes, he looks not about the room but directly at Barry. It makes something hot and cold run up the length of his spine.

“So, my young Lord Allen,” the man says, taking a seat where he finds it beside his companion and sister. “Let us talk.”


	4. Chapter 4

Everything about Lord Allen’s life was pristine and lush and wonderful. It was a pity the boy looked so sad and scared all the time. To be fair, _all the time_ was a pretty limited experience for Len in regards to the boy.

“So tell me,” he says as he leans forward, “Are we too late? Should we congratulate you on a recent engagement?”

The boy blushes almost instantly, so quickly Len isn’t even sure what about the statement has scandalized him.

“I… no. No, not yet.”

“Good,” Len says. “Then let us have some words.”

The little lord’s eyes go towards Mick first, then Lisa. Len chuckles at that.

“Does our company make you nervous?”

“I – no," he says with wide eyes, "If you think it appropriate.”

He makes a subtle sound of ascent and then turns to Lisa.

“Take a turn around Lord Allen’s gardens. Take Mr. Rory with you,” he says before turning his eyes toward the stunned young man. “If his Lordship allows it.”

“Of course,” he sputters, “yes, please I –“

“We’ll find our way,” Lisa says with one of her sickly sweet smiles, “do stay here and speak your business with my brother. Mr. Rory and I can entertain ourselves.”

The boy gulps visibly as the other two step out of the room and Len remembers that, all things considered this is even less appropriate than their previous situation. It’s all he can do not to laugh.

“So tell me, Lord Allen. You do seem to be dragging your feet about this Edwin … Elborn…”

“Eobard,” the boy says, with an amusing hint of contempt, “Duke Eobard Thawne.”

“Of course,” Len agrees, “him.”

“I … yes, I am reluctant to accept his offer.”

“Too long in years to tempt you, is he?”

The blush from earlier returns with a vengeance, making the man’s cheeks turn nearly scarlet. He looks beautiful that way.

“No it,” the boy sighs, flustered, “it isn’t that. It is just the terms of his agreement are….well severe.”

Len raises an eyebrow, imagining all manner of crude and shocking clauses that could upset the boy as much as he obviously is. Maybe a quota for nights in the boy’s chambers, or a footman to spy on him and account for his fidelity. People could be ridiculous about marriage contracts, Len had seen simpler documents of war.

“What about your terms?”

The boy blinked, apparently astounded by the very idea. “My… my terms?”

“Yes,” Len says as he leans back just an inch or two. “What would you get out of the union?”

“I would keep my title and my land,” he says as though he’s said it a thousand times, “I’d be able to continue looking after the people of the county.”

“And that is all you want?”

The boy bites his lip, his hand clenching momentarily where it sits atop his leg.

“I… I would very much like to keep my household as it is.”

“Your household?”

The boy swallows, evidently nervous. “My guardian, Joseph and his daughter. And my … my best friend and my old tutor and our schoolteacher and –“

“And this Duke Eggpot he… objects?”

Allen nods. “Most vehemently.”

“Well,” Len says as he leans forward again. “Perhaps it is time you considered another offer.” 

He states his case plainly, mentioning briefly that he is often abroad and had only heard of this predicament in passing before leaving on his last voyage, and making it clear that it would be an agreement to be found mutually beneficial. 

“I… I am not sure that I understand, why uh…”

“Why I offer myself and not my sister?”

He blushes but nods and Len should have seen this coming, of course. Lisa is much closer in age to the boy and no one can deny her beauty and liveliness.

“I see,” he says calmly. “Well I certainly will not oppose it. But I would be careful, with such a request.”

The little Lord opens and closes his mouth a few times before Len continues.

“If it is heirs you are after you should disabuse yourself of the notion. A number of physicians have agreed my sister can be of no use to you in that respect. But if it is her beauty you find appealing then all I would say is it does not come vacantly and you will not have a moment’s peace.”

Allen licks his lips, it is an unwittingly teasing act and suddenly there is something harder and sharper in his gaze.

“You needn’t besmirch your sister’s good name to keep her safe from me,” he says, “You may state plainly that you would not trust me with her.”

“My dear Lord Allen I would not trust the King’s Guard with her, nor the entire Navy, or every cleric in the country. She would crush them all. Do you mean to tell me people think you a dangerous man?”

“They… many have said that they hold no faith I will not – that I will not turn out like my father.”

The edge in the boy’s voice is thrilling, Len will not deny it – and what he said is as unsurprising as it atrocious. Who could look upon this boy’s face and see a killer?

“Well rest assured, Lord Allen, it is your safety I would worry for if you were to marry my sister. But if that is your preference, well. I can see why the Duke’s offer was rebuffed.”

“No I,” the man, impossibly, blushes once again. “I do not object on that account. Really it is only…I dread to part with those I consider family.”

“Well then, here is my offer – if you will hear it. Both I and my sister hold titles and nothing more. We’ve not any property or fortune to speak of. We are also unwelcome at most social gatherings and you will most likely have heard more stories about us than you heard about the saints in your childhood.”

He says all of this without apology or regret, a mere listing of facts.

“My offer is simply the benefit of a title, the protection it offers you under the law, and – yes – the leave to run your own house as you see fit with whomever you would like to keep on.”

The boy’s face brightens so thoroughly Len is reminded of Lisa as a little child when he brought her a trinket from a far-away land, all the awe and gratefulness in the world.

He seems speechless for a moment before he turns serious once more.

“And what…what about your terms? What would you get from all this?”

Len smiles but he thinks he is careful enough not to let it show.

“All I want is some measure of reputability,” he says with a casual shrug, “my sister enjoys a dance and it has been too long.”

He does not blame the boy for looking shocked. He certainly does blame him for looking impossibly tempting as he worries his lip before nodding.

“I… I will need some time to think about this. Not…not long. Just –“

Just enough time to consult with that man from before, the one who looked at Len like he knew everything he’d ever hidden away.

“Of course,” he says, inclining his head slightly as he stands. “The sands of the hourglass run for you Lord Allen, not me.”


	5. Chapter 5

The siblings Snart and their companion seemingly have no qualms about taking slow paced walks around his gardens, though it seems Mr. Rory is more entertained by the occasional iron ornament – inspecting them for Lord knows what weaknesses – than by the many flowers Ms. Snow adores and Iris dreads to tend to. It was always something her father sent her to do when she’d been mischievous as a child, and she’s grown to hate it.  

He cannot fathom never seeing her roll her eyes and huff while pruning rose bushes while Eddie trails behind her holding tools and acting daftly besotted.

“You cannot consider it,” Joe says plainly, calling his attention back to the discussion at hand. “If it means anything to you, I forbid it.”

“How can you? This is perfect, it is the miracle I prayed for –“

“Or Greeks bearing gifts, or do you want to ignore a life full of lessons at this hour? The man comes at the last minute with the perfect proposition. He asks you to trust him, but do you know who that is?”

“Of course I do.”

“Of course you do, because no one in this county or this town or this country can breathe without speaking truths on the gentleman.”

“And who are you to say they are truths? Are they truths when they say my father is murderer and that I am of the same ilk?”

“Of course not Barry but that is only rumor.”

“And if half the things that are said about Snart were not rumor he would be hanged. Or at best he would be locked away in some putrid dungeon like my father.”

“Why now then? Yes, sure, he’s been abroad a few months.” He starts. “But you have been in your current predicament for years. There are few who do not know it.”

“Maybe his circumstances have become desperate and he wants my money,” he says simply. 

“You are agreeable to that? Someone who will marry you only to empty out your coffers?”

“We…will have to take precautions of some sort – if that is his intention.” Barry cannot imagine how he would go about it but really, there must be a way. “There is plenty of money if that is what he wants, Joe. What there isn’t is time.”

“I do not like it, Barry. I do not like it at all. Why bring his sister if he doesn’t intend to offer her hand? And that man with them, no name, no title, and no reason to be here that could be any good.”

“He could be their friend," Barry counters, "like Cisco is to me. He’s no title either and you’d never speak ill of him.”

“Cisco is an educated man,” he says as if he were affronted by the accusation, “a self-made man.”

“You make too many assumptions and too much judgement and you forget this is the best option we have. Would you really rather I marry Duke Thawne? To never see each other again? What makes you think he is not interested in my money?”

“Oh he certainly is, Barry, and it breaks my heart that you would be tied to someone for such shallow reasons – but better the devil you know, son. Please, listen to me.”

“I am, and I hope to continue.” He pleads. “I hope you will be here to chide me for years and years to come, in our home where you belong. There’s nothing to discuss, Joe. I will accept Snart’s offer.”

“I do not think that –“

“You said not long ago that you trusted my choices,” Barry cuts in. “I am the man you raised and this is the choice I am making, so trust me.”

“It is him I do not trust, Barry and I hope to God you do not intend to trust him either,” Joe warns him.

“I have no need to trust him, Joe.” Barry says with a half-smile. “I need only marry him.”

Barry makes his way back to the study where he'll inform the Marqui of his answer and hopefully take the reigns of his fate back in hand.

“You are all incredibly subtle,” he says with an easy smile on his slips that has probably been absent for weeks if not months. Everyone is gathered outside his study, their eyes flitting back and forth from him to Joe.

“Nothing has been agreed upon yet,” he says and that makes Eddie groan.

“But I need to return with an answer by tonight,” Eddie all but whines.

“And you will have it,” Barry assures him, “I need to speak with the Marquis in private. Cisco maybe you can take on entertaining Lady Lisa and her companion while he and I speak?”

Cisco nods and rushes off with a grin the likes of which had also been absent the last few weeks. “I’ll send him to your study!” He calls out as he goes, all but running out towards the gardens.

“What is the offer? Can we stay?” Iris wants to know.

“You can stay,” he nods, “I am unsure what other demands he might have but I doubt they will be more than I can stand as long as you can all stay, and he has given his word to that.”

“The Duke will certainly not take this well,” Eddie says gravely, “but I am happy. I could not be more so.” Barry tries not to blush as he looks away from the way Eddie and Iris look to one another in relief. Of course, he had not thought of it much, but if Iris were sent away Eddie would still be at the service of his uncle as was his father’s dying wish. He would have never seen her again either.

“I cannot wait to tell Ronnie and the Professor,” Ms. Snow says with a relieved sigh, “they are still inquiring about positions elsewhere and now they won’t have to and we can stay. We can really stay?”

“Yes,” Barry laughs, more in relief than amusement. “Yes you can most certainly stay and teach all the children in the county for as long as there are any.”

He feels Joe’s hand fall on his shoulder and swallows a sudden bout of nerves.

“I hope the price for this joy is not too steep, Barry,” he says quietly.

“It does not matter if it is,” Barry says perhaps a bit too harshly. “I have to accept formally now so that Eddie may take word to the Duke that I will not be accepting his offer.”

Joe squeezes his shoulder once and then Barry turns just in time to see him nod. “Go on then. But remember, Barry. Remember not to trust him.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I promise this is the last of the awkward agreement and technical issues thing, promise! Also promise that Barry will never blush these many times - well no that's a lie, but he does blush an obnoxious amount of times in this chapter. He's supposed to.

The boy has stuttered his acceptance in too many words and at least three shades of red before they even take a seat or are left alone. When Len walked in he’d been in deep conversation with the girl from earlier and as soon as he saw Len it was as if he’d lost control of his tongue.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Len says, much too entertained by the boy’s face to bother with niceties like sitting down or paying any mind to the girl – Miss West - who had been speaking in passionate but whispered tones with him when Len arrived. The boy swallows as if there is some knot or tightness in his throat.

“I am at a loss for what to do now,” he says with a shy smile.

Len returns it to some extent and finally sits. “Now I suppose I go back to my home and you deal with your spurned Duke and then, sometime before your dreaded birthday, we wed.”

The boy seems close to fainting at the thought and Len can’t be sure if he finds it alarming or amusing. It is so astonishingly different from the fist expression he ever saw on the boy, the one that captivated him and kept him sleepless more night than not. Miss West seems to notice her companion’s distress and she makes an aborted gesture to comfort him but holds herself back at the last second. Interesting. He wonders if there is something there that Len has come to interrupt.

“You’d go?”

It was not at all the question Len was expecting, so he raises an eyebrow and says nothing. The young woman beside him looks, if anything, wary.

“It would not be appropriate,” she tells him softly, “for the Marquis to reside here if you are not yet married.”

“Do you doubt my word, Lord Allen?”

“No,” he says quickly, eyes wide. “No I just – forgive me I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course. You also have your belongings to collect and any staff you may want to bring.”

“I think my staff will be glad to be rid of me,” he says with what he knows is an unnerving smile. “But I do need to set what affairs I have there in order. Three weeks should suffice.”

The little lord takes a step forward and then the same one back. He still has not sat down, nor has his companion. “That would be the week of my birthday,” he says. “You would not mind how it would…appear?”

“Lord Allen, marrying you at the eleventh hour is likely the least scandalous thing I will ever be accused of. I do not mind. Unless you do?”

He turns to the girl and exchanges a glance with her, turning back to him and shaking his head. “No. No I would not mind.”

“Good. Then if it’s all the same to do I’ll be on way and I will-“

“My Lord if I may,” Miss West says, in a tone that does not suggest she is asking leave so much as announcing. She takes a seat and the boy follows her lead. “Your sister, the Lady Lisa… I expect she will join you here, with us, when you and Ba- when you and Lord Allen are wed.”

“You expect correctly,” he says, not entirely sure what this seemingly innocent girl might be scheming.

She looks to her Lord or her lover, Len is not yet quite sure, but she does not wait for any sign from him before she continues.

“Perhaps your Lady Sister would join us, while you attend to your business. She could take part in the preparations for the ceremony and find time to settle into her new home, help make sure it feels right for you when you arrive. We would want you both to feel most welcome.”

Ah, so Len understands now. He’s taken hostages before – never for three weeks. Still. He admires the quick wit on the girl, surely Lisa will find a way to make her time here useful if she’s left to her own devices, assumed vulnerable by the strangers they’re to set up among.

“I think she might enjoy that,” he murmurs. “But you will have to ask her yourself.”

Miss West inclines her head with a charming little smile. “I will set to that then.”

She rises and gives a small unpracticed curtsy before leaving the room and Len stares after her for a moment. It is suddenly so evident what the Duke of Wells intended by removing her and all who certainly care for her from Barry’s presence. The stupidity of trying to break bonds with distance does not truly surprise Len, for most people are imbeciles, but he will not be making the same mistake.

“The lady of the house?”

“Excuse me?”

Len nods to the closed door, “Will she be feeling displaced by the new configurations? I assure you my sister will have no interest in setting dinner menus nor I in taking up any attentions you might have already granted…”

The boy sits up and his hand flies to the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. Len wonders briefly if wide-eyed and scandalized is Lord Allen’s habitual appearance.

“Iris? I mean Miss West? Uh…no she is …she Joseph West’s daughter. My guardian? She is…my sister for all intents. But we uh- we let the cook set dinner? And Iris is…like I said, a sister to me there is no…”

“Ah,” is all Len says, as he is not entirely sure if the boy is lying or not. But he’ll find out soon enough. Lisa will surely tell him.  

“In any case I encourage you to remember that this is a transaction, Lord Allen. An agreement. So if you have granted those attentions elsewhere, do not feel obliged to change that on my account.”

He looks away, the embarrassment of the conversation is obviously overwhelming. Perhaps he is not lying after all.

“I apologize. I have offended you.”

When he looks back to Len he does not refute the statement, but at the very least he does not look upset.

“It is alright. I know that … such things are expected of men my age and in my position it is only – it just is not the case. Is all.”

“Then you are in a rank of your own and I commend you for it,” he tells the boy as he begins to notice that the shades of Lord Allen’s blush tell different stories. This faint pink tint about the tops of his cheeks speaks of a more pleasurable embarrassment.

“I am certain my sister will accept Miss West’s offer,” he says as he leans forward. “I only wanted a moment in private with you.”

“Oh? I … yes I should have waited before –“

“Quite alright. I am happy to take your hasty acceptance as a sign of enthusiasm.”

“It is,” he says, and then bites his lip in a way Len is certain he is most unaware of. He doubts Lord Allen would ever do anything so tempting on purpose.

“Well then think no more of it,” he says, hoping to reassure him.

The boy nods once and leans forward in his seat, his tone hushed. “My Lord I must ask … is there truly nothing else you wish from this – transaction?”

“What else could I want?”

He asks the question only to see what color guilty mortification takes on the pallet of Lord Allen’s cheeks.

“Oh,” he says as if the thought has just come to him, once he has the answer (a shockingly deep crimson) he was looking for. “You mean money.”

The boy swallows and bites his lip in that maddening manner once again. “I do not mean to be – what I intend to say is… you will of course have free use of – “

“I will not be a burden on your books, my Lord,” he tells the boy, “nor will my sister. I assure you. Do you trust me?”

All flushing and shock aside Len is surprised by the spark of sincerity in his future husband’s eyes.

“Yes,” he says softly, “yes, I do trust you.”


	7. Chapter 7

The Lady Lisa is unlike any woman Barry has ever met, although, to be perfectly fair the women he has met are for the most part Iris and Caitlin. Occasionally Miss Felicity Smoak makes a trip to the country and visits with him, but though she is as brilliant as she is talkative, Miss Smoak is nothing like Lady Lisa.

Lady Lisa always looks like she has a secret, a huge and scandalous secret that she finds terribly amusing. It is also entirely impossible to keep secrets from Lady Lisa as they find out on the third day of her stay with them at the dinner table.

“Are you feeling better, Professor?” Iris asks across the table. Professor Stein looks just as if he were about to embark on a long explanation of the state of his health, but he visibly stops himself and nods instead.

“Yes, much better. Thank you dear.”

“I did mean to ask,” Lady Lisa says, from beside Barry. But instead of turning to Professor Stein she turns to Caitlin instead. “How ever did you manage to learn medicine, Ms. Snow?”

“I…excuse me?”

“Well I was under the impression that you were a schoolteacher, but between the long-winded admonishments you gave the good Professor yesterday and the way you set that little girl’s leg this morning it is obvious you are more than a countryside schoolteacher. You are a physician, are you not? So do tell me, how did you accomplish such a feat, learning medicine with the unfortunate state of our universities?”

“Unfortunate state?” Cisco asks before Caitlin can recover enough to reply.

“Their overwhelming maleness, Mr. Ramon,” Lady Lisa says sweetly with a charming smile.

Caitlin finds her voice a moment after and Barry continues to sit motionless and mute, a bite of food still hovering a few inches over his plate.

“I… well with the help of my friends,” Caitlin begins, “of course. They – well Bar- Lord Allen and Mr. Ramon sent their notes along with correspondence. Brought books to me during the holidays and – well, my husband may have helped me into some lecture halls with the help of a good disguise, for more practical learning.”

The speech gives Barry enough time to gather his thoughts and address his future sister-in-law. “I am sorry we have been deceitful it is just…if certain people knew that Ms. Snow is a trained physician…”

“Oh, there is no need to explain,” she says, taking a sip of her wine. “I know full well the consequence of displaying the female intellect in public.”

“You have commendable observational skills, Lady Lisa,” Joe notes.

The woman only smiles briefly before returning to her dinner.

* * *

The next day their breakfast table is full, and Barry knows it is because everyone wants to be present these days to hold court with Lady Lisa. No one delays in bed or runs off to town at first light. He can hardly remember the last time they had to eat breakfast in the dining hall.

Still, everyone seems to go about their business as usual – which means when the morning paper arrives Cisco makes a grab for it and flips excitedly to the police reports. Barry thinks about warning him about how inadvisable it might be to display his enthusiasm for crime journalism in front of their guest, but he supposes if she is going to live with them she must know how they are.

“I knew it,” Cisco says with glee. “I just had a feeling he would strike again last night. There was a chill in the air, Barry. Just like my grandmother used to say, spring chill means certain mischief.”

“What are you talking about?” Lady Lisa asks, all her voice calmly curious.

“Our dear Mr. Ramon, a man of science with numerous degrees,” Joe says as he pours his tea, “finds his greatest accomplishment is suggesting a name for a common criminal to a newspaper and having it stick.”

“It is a great name,” Cisco insists before he clears his throat and reads. “ _The dread Captain Cold has struck again, holding up the coach of a venerable lord and his lady wife on the road to Starling._ ”

“Captain Cold,” Lady Lisa says with an appreciative hum. “What a colorful name, however did you come up with it?”

“Well it’s the way they describe him,” Cisco says, his face gleeful as a child’s. “Listen here. _Dressed in his habitual fur-lined Navy coat and bandit’s mask – an abomination to the King’s Navy uniform – the despicable pirate of the roads held the gentleman and lady at point of pistol. He is said to have spoken in frigid tones as he demanded all valuables from the esteemed couple and even made a vulgar quip about the lady’s icing, referring –all assumed – to the gold and diamonds necklace she wore, an invaluable piece that he made off with._ ”

“Sounds thrilling,” she says with a grin. Fantastic, Barry thinks, just what they need in this household is another enthusiast of that bastard, Cold.

“Barry has encountered him,” Cisco says, as if to impress her.

“Oh. Can we do without the anecdote,” Barry all but whines, “it is entirely too early.”

“It is never to early to regale a lady with stories of heroic deeds,” Cisco argues.

“I agree,” the Lady Lisa says happily, “oh do tell me.”

“Well it was near a year ago, but impossible to forget. Barry was on the road back from Starling where he had been visiting with Lord Queen, who was also a suitor of Barry’s might I add.”

The Lady Lisa seemed more scandalized by this than by Cisco’s dramatic reading.

“You rebuffed Lord Queen? My, Lord Allen, but you could have owned all of Starling!”

“Oliver is a friend,” Barry says, trying not to blush at the thought of Oliver’s dutiful proposal. “And I know his heart to belong to another. I could never stand in the way of their happiness.”

“Whatever the case might be,” Cisco cuts in, “he was just returning from rejecting the proposal of the best catch in the whole of the country when Captain Cold held up his carriage.”

“There is not much to the story,” Barry cuts in, “he made off with some gold I had handy and a pocket watch –“

“But not with Lady Allen’s ring,” Cisco says, leaning into the table for added effect. “When the bandit made to take it from Barry’s neck my friend stopped him, calm as anything. Captain Cold was so surprised he sent his customary warning shot into the carriage and nearly killed Barry –“

“Cisco that’s hardly –“

“But as you can see Barry is quite well, the red jacket he wore even survived the ordeal with naught but a precise bullet shaped hole over the shoulder.”

“That sounds like the most exciting of adventures,” she says as she turns to Barry, “so much more detailed than my brother’s descriptions of his own travels.”

“Well my friend is quite attached to that story,” Barry mumbles, “he’s even kept the jacket.”

“I think it a wonderful story as well,” Iris says.

“I agree,” says Ronald, “if I had survived such a night I would surely never be quiet about it.”

“I’d be glad never to hear of it again,” Joe says from his end of the table, “I dread to think what might have happened.”

“Well, I think Barry should wear the red jacket more often,” Cisco grins, “but all things considered I hope he never encounters Captain Cold again.”

“Indeed,” Barry sighs, glad the conversation seems to be coming to an end.

“Indeed,” Lady Lisa agrees, though it seems as always that she is sitting with a secret, a huge and scandalous secret that she finds terribly amusing.


	8. Chapter 8

“I thought you’d not come back in time,” the boy says breathlessly when he meets him at the edge of the estate. Len looks the young man up and down, his shirt untucked and his trousers dusty at the legs from all the running. Len saw him take off out the door and all the way down the drive.

“I always know how long it will take to go where I want to be,” is all Len answers.

The boy smiles looking down at himself and – surprisingly – not blushing. He only laughs soft and evidently relieved

“I asked Joe to fetch the magistrate as soon as I saw you riding in, that is…if it’s alright with you –" the young man tells him.

“Do be at ease, Lord Allen, I didn’t arrive two hours short of noon out of coincidence.”

“Good. That is, I would much rather not risk the wait until tomorrow…”

“Then we will not wait,” Len agrees as he reaches a hand out to him. Allen looks at his hand as if he could not fathom what Len meant by the gesture. “I imagine you would rather not run right back up the drive?”

Now the boy blushes, at last. Len makes certain not to show how much that pleases him nor how much it pleases him when Allen takes his hand. He hoists the boy up onto the horse and he can imagine that the shades of his cheek deepen as he settles behind Len.

“I take it my sister has dissuaded yours from any kind of ceremony?”

“She has,” he answers as Len takes them at an even pace up to the house. “How did you know?”

Len smiles, knowing that Allen cannot see from where he is. “My sister knows me well.”

The boy is silent for the rest of the way until he stops at the large double doors where Lisa stands grinning and Ms. Snow accompanies her, evidently scandalized by the state of Lord Allen. They dismount and both women take deep breaths at the sight of them.

“Brother,” Lisa greets as she steps forward. Len exchanges a look with her, silently approving of the accomplishment he can read in her eyes.

“Are you sure I cannot make something small, just – one violin player,” Ms. Snow nearly pleads.

“No,” Allen tells her gently, “We do not have violin players invited to any other matter of business-“

“But-“

“Caitlin,” he says softly, “set your energies to encouraging Eddie if you want to plan a wedding so badly.”

He smiles then and the woman smiles back, fond but exasperated.

“Well I’m setting a vase of fresh flowers in the study and you shan’t stop me.”

“Of course,” he says with a grin and a nod before turning back to Len.

“I apologize she was…very disappointed.”

“There will be other events I am sure,” he replies. “Now, while we wait for the magistrate I’d like a word with my sister.”

The boy nods again, his nerves becoming evident as he excuses himself and nearly runs into the house.

* * *

 “You should not scare him so,” Lisa says as she takes his hand and pulls him to the parlor.

“That is not my intention,” he tells her, trying to keep the amusement from his voice.

“Oh you love it,” she declares. “He is precious. And pretty. And I think that you two will-“

“Lisa.”

“I have them eating out of my hand,” she tells him softly, “we will be comfortable and free of prying eyes.”

He rolls his eyes at her. “Not more so than we would have been-“

“Oh Lenny let it be with the islands,” she snaps.

“Very well. But I would not count so much on that freedom if that child is going to be hanging out of windows eyeing my comings and goings.”

“Oh, he was all made up of nerves for the last two days fretting you would not come back in time. I am sure he will be less attentive,” she says, a sly grin blooming, “unless you do not want him to be.”

“Again with this? Why don’t you just tell me how it went, your little recognizance.”

“Well it is difficult to tell is it not, everyone just holding their breath until the deal is done.  But I do not think they would suspect in the least,” she says as she sits.

“Are you certain? How are you so certain?”

“Because your beloved’s young friend, the scientist,” she says, a lightness in her voice that makes him squint, “he is the one who wrote The Morning Herald to suggested that wretched name you are so fond of.”

He steps back in surprise. “You must be joking.”

“I am not. And if such an admirer of your work has no suspicions then why should anyone else?”

Len takes a deep breath and nods. “Well, let us get on with it then.”

“Ah,” she says, a finger raised, “not so fast.”

He raises an eyebrow as she purses her lips. “I happen to know that you have a gift for me.”

“Why Lisa must you be such a brat. It is my wedding day, after all, not yours.”

“It might as well be,” she says with a shrug before stretching out her hand. “Now give.”

He finally sighs, exaggerated and put upon, before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a square velvet box.

Lisa jumps out of her seat and grabs it, laughing as she always does when she takes in the gold and gemstones.

“Oh Lenny, I love it,” she says as she grins.

“Good,” he says before pulling the box away from her and putting it back in his jacket. “Do not even think about wearing this before sunset, unless you want to scandalize these fine people.”

“Oh Lenny,” she sighs, mimicking his theatrics, “three weeks and you think I’ve not done a good enough job of scandalizing them yet?”

“Unbelievable,” he says, rolling his eyes again before straightening his jacket. “Still. Well I have a contract to sign, stop wasting time.”

“Lenny wait, where is Mick?”

“Not tempted by our little game, or so he says. He will be close enough. Is that all?”

“No,” she says, a new edge to her voice. “I do not want you imagining I’ll be sitting on my laurels from now on.”

“Lisa-“

“No. I do not think it. If you leave me behind I’ll just choose another road.”

Len takes a deep calming breath. He knows, of course, that nothing he does can keep her from doing precisely what she wants. He only blames himself for the shape of her desires. “Very well.”

“Good,” she says, smiling pleasantly once again. “Now off to get you married.”                


	9. Chapter 9

They have thirty or so minutes until noon but everything is nearly done, really – just a signature here and there and it will all be done. Joe and Professor Stein stand as witnesses along with the magistrate and of course the clerk and if this isn’t the most boring contractual agreement Barry has ever been a part of he’d wear one of Iris’s bonnets to dinner. When the clerk hands him the pen for his signature he spares a glance up at the man beside him.

Barry cannot tell whether he is equally bored by the proceedings but he doubts that he is as disappointed as Barry is. He swallows back a sigh as he sets his name beside his seal, thinking of his family and all the people who depend upon him and of nothing else. He finds himself pushing back all the childish dreams he might have once had of the kind of love he’s only read about, the sort he almost felt for Iris when he was still a boy and before he realized that not only did she not feel the same for him but that all these feelings were immaterial to him. He was always going to be married like this, for land and money and names, not love. That was his part in the tragedy of his mother’s death, an unshakable loneliness.

The ink threatens to blot so he removes the pen and hands it back to the clerk who shuffles behind the desk to show the contract to the magistrate who in turn hands Barry the documents that had been held in trust. There, Barry thinks, just as the Marquis had said – a transaction. There is no ceremony and there are no congratulations.

He spares another glance at the man as he takes the documents and tries to be genuine in his smile. He receives a nod in return for his show of gratitude and Barry, well, he feels cold.

He has begged everyone treat this as a normal day, so there is no one waiting outside of the study – not even Iris or Lady Lisa whom last he heard were in town taking stock of the new imports. Professor Stein accompanies the magistrate and the clerk back into town as well and Joe spares him one last concerned glance before excusing himself.

“I’ll let you get settled,” Barry says quietly, waiting for the happiness and relief he had so anticipated and finding himself still waiting.

“It is a bit late for second thoughts, Lord Allen,” the man in front of him says.

“Oh no,” Barry says quickly, knowing his eyes are wide and alarmed. “No heavens no – I… I apologize, I do not mean to seem upset.”

“I hardly think anyone ever means to,” Snart says, still eyeing him.

Barry licks his lips and tries to make sense of his nonsensical feelings. “I just – I only… thank you. For what you’ve done for me, I can never repay you.”

“I think a handsome annuity for my sister is a form of repayment,” Snart reminds him, “don’t you?”

“No,” Barry says simply. “No, that is my obligation. She is my sister now, too.”

The man has no reply for that, or at least Barry thinks he does not as his eyes fall downcast again and he tries to pull himself together, to find joy in what he’s done. Then suddenly, by all means unexpected, there is a hand – chilled, measured and gentle – lifting his chin. “Sometimes it is the way of sacrifice to not know what we do until we do it, otherwise we might never do things for the good of anyone else. It is a foolish thing to do and you seem to me a foolish man. All good men are.”

Barry feels a grip in his heart but he cannot recognize it, he cannot call it fear nor joy, maybe it is a thrill.

“Are you a good man?”

Snart smirks, removing his hand adjusting his cuff as he answers, “No one has ever accused me of being foolish, my Lord.”

“Barry,” he says immediately, “please, all things considered, call me Barry.”

“Not Bartholomew?”

“Most definitely not,” Barry laughs, “shall …May I call you Leonard?”

“No,” the man says quickly, “never. But Len, you may call me that.”

Barry finds it easier to smile now, which is mad really, considering what this man – his husband – has just hinted at; that he isn’t a good man, that this arrangement is to him no sacrifice. Still, it is the easiest thing in the world to smile.

* * *

“I have a surprise for you,” Iris says, without warning before she enters the library and disrupts his increasingly melancholy thoughts.

“A surprise?” He looks up to the clock on the mantelpiece and sighs. “But it’s nearly supper time.”

“Indeed,” she agrees, “and you have been maudlin for hours and hours on your wedding day and that cannot stand.”

“Oh Iris,” he huffs, “it is hardly a wedding day. I mean – yes, technically but…”

“A technicality will suffice,” she says as she takes his hand and pulls him up from his seat. “Now where is your husband?”

Barry shrugs. “Taking in his rooms, I suppose. Or…well I do not know for certain, it is not my …business.”

“Oh that is just sad,” Iris says as she puts her hands on his arms. “You cannot truly think so.”

“It is not a real marriage, Iris,” he whispers, “not the way it should be. He should …do as he pleases.”

“Well, Lisa will take care to find him, you come with me.” She links her arm with his and leads him through the house and out the front door.

“Iris it is nearly dark,” he says as they start down the drive, “where are we going?”

“Never you mind,” she says, “now tell me all the deliriously dull details of what happened this morning. Barry indulges her as they walk, telling her of all the stony faces in the room and of the sudden sadness that gripped his heart. He tells her how confused he is about what to do next in such a strange arrangement. He does not tell her about Len, though. He does not tell her how they exchanged their given names or how he felt slightly teased or how his husband had hinted at something that Barry was still perplexed about.

“Now I have talked myself out,” he says as he looks about and sees the many lantern lit windows of the nearest village. “What are we doing out here at this time of night?”

“We,” she says with a pleased smile, “are going to celebrate.”

She points over to a common hall, one where the village’s celebrations where always held.

“Iris what did you –“

“Oh I did nothing,” she says, a shocked hand at her own neck. “It was the people who you have nobly protected today that wanted to celebrate you – on your wedding day.”

She smiles as the door to the hall opens and Eddie is there to welcome them into the modest hall filled with warm lights and warmer smiles – it seems to Barry people from beyond this village must be in attendance tonight, surly not so many live nearby.

“Here he is at last,” Eddie calls into the room. The crowd breaks into cheers and applause and Barry is sure as anything that he must be a brighter red than the jacket he sees approaching, held in Cisco’s hands.

“Oh this is too much,” he says as Iris lightly shoves him into the room. Cisco even winks as he prods Barry into changing jackets and even Joe, standing off to the back of the room with Caitlin and Ronnie, seems to be in good spirits.

Barry is half way into his jacket when he sees him, looking as innocuous as any villager but in markedly finer clothing. Len is, for the most part, smiling that tight smile of his and looking partly amused. But there is something else in his expression as Barry finally puts the damned jacket on that he cannot understand. He wants to go to him, perhaps apologize for the pomp when there really is no true marriage to speak of. But first, he must address the gathered crowd.

“Thank you all,” he says as he steps up on an unvarnished table. “I truly cannot express my joy today, my joy at being here with you all with the certainty that I will remain here to be sure our home is prosperous. Or my joy at knowing my family will be at my side while I do so. Neither can I properly express my gratitude and my admiration for my lord husband, his understanding and his generosity. Please- enjoy yourselves tonight, tomorrow we will all be safe in knowing we can carry on as we always have.”

The crowd applauds once more and as he hops off the table, none too elegantly, cheerful music erupts in the hall.

He makes his way over to Len then, cheeks burning as he approaches.

“I…I swear I had no idea,” he mutters as he accepts a drink from him.

“No I wouldn’t think so,” Len says with a smirk as he looks about the room.

“It is just Iris-“

“I assure you my sister had a hand in this,” he says, looking back to Barry. “And as I did say my sister –“

“She enjoys a dance,” Barry says with a smile, “yes, I remember.”

Barry looks out onto the hall to see Lisa, dressed in fashions Barry can imagine are designed for royalty, dancing with a large and unabashed smile.

“This is… more humble than I am sure you imagined your sister’s dance to be,” Barry says.

“Oh please,” Len says with a derisive sound, “my sister can enjoy herself among princes and milkmaids, it is all the same to her.”

“Well then I – I mean would you perhaps like to –“

“Lord Allen,” a voice calls, nearly booming from the front door. The music screeches to a halt as does the dancing and the laughter in the room. Barry feels his heart might stop when he looks over and finds the Duke of Wells standing there.

“What a merry celebration,” he says, something calm, collected, and dangerous in his voice. “Pity I was not told, I so want to offer my congratulations.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Adri throws historical accuracy out the window in favor of steaming things up.

“Your Grace,” Barry breathes out. “I –“

“I wonder if I may have a word with you in private,” he says with a subtle look about the room. “It will only be a moment. Then I will happily return you to your merriment and to your husband.”

Barry looks back towards Len and takes a breath. “I’ll only be a moment.”

“I will accompany you,” Len says, his words directed at the Duke. “There is no secrecy among spouses after all.”

“No, you are right. But there is plenty between old friends. Is that not so, Lord Allen?”

“Please Len,” the boy whispers, “stay and enjoy yourself, there is no need.”

Len looks between them for a moment appraising the tension along Barry’s neck and the threat in the Duke’s stance.

“As you will,” Len says as he takes a step back before going to Lisa. He can hear the murmuring rise to a roar as the two men leave the hall and the music takes up once again as if trying to erase the hard pause from memory.

Lisa reaches her hands out to him and he takes them, allowing her to pull him into a dance almost seamlessly.

“You’ve left your young husband to his own devices?”

“He can make his own choices,” he says as he moves along with her.

She hums as they dance and speaks only when they are close to one another.

“Just as he has chosen you?”

He shakes his head as he takes her hand once again. “When did you let your mind go dull with such notions, Lisa?”

“Oh Lenny,” she says with a too sweet smile as she glides away from him and returns two beats later. “Not all of us can keep our heart half so cold.”

“I thought I taught you better.”

She shrugs lightly.

“I thought you came here to get what you wanted,” she whispers.

“And we will,” he agrees. “Here we can drape ourselves in the country scandal and play our games.”

She seems just about to protest when Len catches sight of Barry over by the doors. Lisa follows his gaze and laughs softly, swatting at his arm as if he has said something endlessly amusing.

“I see your husband is returned. That was rather quick. Oh, do take him home before he catches a chill,” she says with a wicked smile.

“Do try to restrain yourself,” he says as he nods over to where Allen’s young scientist friend is trying and failing to keep his eyes off Lisa as they moved along the dance floor. “At least until we settle.”

“So long as you go and make sure we settle well,” she says with a pointed look.

He bows only slightly as the music ends and Lisa laughs, as she moves off into the crowd.          

Allen moves towards him just as Lisa melts out of sight.

“You look shaken,” Len notes, keeping his tone clear of concern.

“His Grace was unhappy,” Barry mutters, his eyes scanning the crowd, “but I would rather not speak on it.”

“Next time,” Len says, taking a step closer to the boy and capturing his attention. “Next time I would advise not to run off to dark corners with gentlemen. Who knows what people might say?”

Barry turns pale rather than shades of red and Len, in a maddening loss of control, reaches out to lay his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“I jest,” he assures him. “I’ve not forgotten the nature of our transaction.”

“Of course,” Barry says.

“However,” he adds as he removes his hand, “there is no need to give these good people that impression. We should retire for the evening. Leave my sister and…Mr. Ramon to their dancing.”

Now Barry’s cheeks do not disappoint in their hue of scarlet but after a moment and some heavy glances between himself and his surrogate father he turns back to Len and nods.

* * *

The road back to the house is dark by now and Len holds a lantern to light their path. He knows the rest of the party will return together, but that it expected for newlyweds to absent themselves early, perhaps head off to a honeymoon. Of course there are no such plans for them and there will no doubt be shocked whispers about them slipping away without bidding anyone farewell, but shocked whispers are exactly the kind of noise Len hopes to raise around himself and Lisa and Mick.

“I truly meant no offense though I realized how it may have looked.”

“I care very little for how things look,” Len tells him as they walk, “and I have it in understanding that you’ve no inclination towards the man. I do not see why I should be concerned.”

“But-“

“Besides,” he adds before Barry can cut in, “I did give my word I would not interfere in your affairs.”

Barry walks quietly beside him and just as Len makes out the path towards the high doors of the house in the dim lantern’s light he finally speaks again.

“Can I ask something of you?”

“Perhaps,” he answers. “I should be in a giving mood as it is my wedding day.”

Even in the darkness he can see the smile on the other man’s face.

“I was wondering if – I mean if there is no one…I realized I never asked. I – well I was wondering if we might get to know one another. As more than –“

“Are you asking if I am interested in anything beyond a transaction of business?”

It is entirely too dark to notice such a thing, so Len imagines the blush on his husband’s cheek himself.

“Forgive me,” the man nearly stutters, “it is entirely too forward of –“

Before the boy can finish his stumbling apology Len steps in front of him, effectively stopping the quick pace that he had been near struggling to keep up with. A strange unnatural warmth emanates from the boy like a fire burning quietly under his shirt. Len is pulled in by it, restraining himself only in so much he needs to so that he can have control. In one hand he holds the lantern aloft so that the dark of the night envelops them quite suddenly, but he can still make out enough in the moonlight to find his target. He presses his lips gently, much more so than he has done in years, just at the edge of the other man’s lips. It is chaste, nearly accidental if it weren’t so that Len plans everything to the inch and second.

However it just seems to be that his plans, all measured and parsed out as they are, never truly accounted for Barry Allen. Just as he tries to pull away from the chaste kiss to leave the boy wanting, he finds himself pulled forward by the front of his jacket, pulled into a kiss more enthusiastic than practiced. It temps him to drop the lantern and forget all else and pull him in and keep him there, just as he has wanted ever since he missed a shot just over the shoulder of a boy with lightning in his eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I aim to please. Here's the last chapter - in Barry's perspective.

“Your Grace,” Barry breathes out. “I –“

“I wonder if I may have a word with you in private,” the Duke says, those sharp eyes taking stock of the people around them and finding them wanting. “It will only be a moment. Then I will happily return you to your merriment and to your husband.”

The last thing Barry wants is this confrontation. He had been dutifully ignoring the looming consequence of spurning a man of such power, this man in particular. He turns to Len to excuse himself. “I’ll only be a moment.”

“I will accompany you,” Len says without question, a simple statement of fact. He directs himself towards the Duke, “There is no secrecy among spouses after all.”

The words send a spark through Barry’s body, and he is suddenly aware of the inescapable intimacy of their situation. He does not know the man at all but he is his husband and Barry is not sure what to make of the display.

“No,” the Duke says lightly, “you are right. But there is plenty between old friends. Is that not so, Lord Allen?”

He fixes Barry with that pinning glance again and he knows, of course, the consequence for denying any more of what the man wishes would be terrible.

“Please Len,” he says softly, making use of his husband’s entrusted name, “stay and enjoy yourself, there is no need.”

“As you will,” Len says. He seems not uncertain but unconvinced by Barry’s assurances. All the same he nods imperceptibly before turning towards where his sister watches silently.

Wells does not touch him, but his presence is heavy like a hand on his shoulder as they step out of the hall into the chilled night.

The Duke has always enjoyed corners when it comes to Barry, always seems to find a way to loom over him and keep too close without anyone noticing.

“You think you are so clever, don’t you Bartholomew.”

“I made you no promises, your Grace.”

“No, you were careful not to. You have always been diligent. But am shocked at you, consorting with rabble. Empty names and begrudged titles, Barry. Do you know how old the man was before he even had a name? I know your mind, child. I’ve known it since you were tripping over your nurse’s skirt. It is filled with fantasies and romance. Do you think a man like that can live up to your dreams? That he’ll have a gentle affection for you? A desire for anything but your gold? You could have been a prince among princes, Bartholomew but now… the recognized bastard of a man dying in disgrace – how long can someone like that protect you?”

“I do not need protection,” Barry grits out, “or fantasies or romance. I needed help, and you dangled it in front of me while trying to separate me from my family –“

“No, Barry. As usual you see villainy where there is help and help where there is villainy. All I ever wanted was the best for you, just as your Lady mother did in life. I wanted you to be a great and noble gentleman like she envisioned. Your father’s blood outs after all –“

“Do not,” Barry whispers harshly, “do not speak against my father.”

“Threats? You have only been wed under a day and the man has already corrupted your heart. I admire your courage, Lord Allen, and I pray you remain courageous enough to face the consequences of your foolish choices.”

Barry doesn’t back down from the daggers in the man’s eyes. “Threats, your Grace?”

The man leans in, too close, making corners where there are none.

“Promises,” he whispers, before turning on his heel and marching away from Barry.

* * *

He knows that at least in part, if not wholly, the Duke of Wells spoke the truth. Len was unknown to him, but he knew that the likelihood of affection and protection was slim by any scientific standard. Still, returning to the music filled hall and finding the man dancing gracefully with his sister, Barry’s heart forgot all science and fact. He felt, at the core of him, that there was something within the man that called to him.

He does not give minds to his steps but suddenly the Lady Lisa is grinning and floating on her feet into the crowd, and he is there with his husband before him.

“You look shaken,” the man tells him, something matter of fact about his tone.

 “His Grace was unhappy,” Barry says as he looks around for Eddie, suddenly worried about the Duke’s nephew, “but I would rather not speak on it.”

“Next time,” Len says, as he steps closer, suddenly so close that the room around Barry seems to go hushed though he knows it is not so. “Next time I would advise not to run off to dark corners with gentlemen. Who knows what people might say?”

Barry feels his stomach go up in knots. Of course, it must have looked atrocious to this man who has agree to be married to him to see Barry flit away into the darkness with another man on their wedding day. Then Len’s hand is at his shoulder and he sees his expression fall and soften just a fraction.

“I jest,” he says under his breath. “I’ve not forgotten the nature of our transaction.”

“Of course,” Barry says. Just as the Duke had said. There will be no dreams or romance or desire or any affection.

“However,” Len says as he moves away and leaves the place where his hand rested tingling, “there is no need to give these good people that impression. We should retire for the evening. Leave my sister and…Mr. Ramon to their dancing.”

Barry is sure his face must be burning at the implication that they should give the whole village the impression that they are besotted newlyweds longing for privacy. He looks to Joe who can, as always, apparently read the very thoughts that cross Barry’s mind. It makes his face hotter still, but he turns to Len and nods.

-

Barry knows the impression they have left behind them as he follows Len along the path, him and the light he holds before them. There is no carriage waiting to take them on a honeymoon, there is no excuse for it. Barry has plenty of business to attend to and he does not think Len would agree to any further farce. But the idea that the man he has married is amiable to making everyone in town think they are married in true affection, it gives him a thrill of hope.

 “I truly meant no offense,” he says after a while, “though I realized how it may have looked.”

“I care very little for how things look,” Len answers as he keeps pace, “and I have it in understanding that you’ve no inclination towards the man. I do not see why I should be concerned.”

 “But-“

“Besides,” he adds before Barry can cut in, “I did give my word I would not interfere in your affairs.”

The words wound Barry like a knife but they are to be expected, of course. When they had spoken before it had been made clear, his husband did not care who it was Barry took to bed. The thought made him terribly sad.

He remains silent, but when the estate is clear ahead of them he manages to find enough boldness in himself to make another request. Asking too much has always been his way, though he never does expect anything in return for his wishes.

 “Can I ask something of you?”

“Perhaps,” Len says, his lips turned up in a smirk. “I should be in a giving mood as it is my wedding day.”

Barry smiles. He can’t help but enjoy the good humor with which the man takes their ridiculous situation. He wishes Len would smile more genuinely around him. He wishes they could be comfortable and familiar with one another. He wishes, ludicrously, that they could be in love with each other – that they could be heading just now for a wedding night of the sort he has dreamed and felt shame about.

“I was wondering if – I mean if there is no one…I realized I never asked. I – well I was wondering if we might get to know one another. As more than –“

“Are you asking if I am interested in anything beyond a transaction of business?”

Barry feels his entire face set aflame once again. Of course, it was ridiculous of him to even suggest – so improper and outright offensive of him. What must this man think of the union he has irrevocably joined?

“Forgive me,” Barry catches on the words and his stumbles over them, wanting to take the last few seconds back from the run of time, “it is entirely too forward of –“

Before Barry can finish his stumbling apology Len steps in front of him, stopping Barry in his tracks. Something about the closeness makes him shiver and he does not know for certain, for it is a different type of chill, if the shiver that runs through him is caused by the night or by the nearness of the other man. Barry has been close to people before, of course, but never like this – never in a way that reminds him of the way the blood rushes through his veins. Len pulls the lantern away from them and their closeness falls into darkness. Barry can hardly remember to breathe, but only until he feels the soft cool press of lips against the corner of his mouth.

It is everything he thought he would never have, every spring day fantasy of gentle courtship and every stifling summer night of torrid fantasy. The joy he feels at the sudden prospect of some measure of soft feelings between them makes him lose his mind from one moment to the next. He only knows that he feels Len pull away and cannot have it. He tucks his fingers into the other man’s jacket and pulls him close, deepening the kiss as best he can working solely off his well-read imagination. He loses the thoughts of his own lack of skill in the feeling of Len’s response. This man wants him, impossibly, in a way Barry had forsaken for himself. Suddenly where there was nothing but a dark path of inescapable solitude there is a burning spark of desire and a blanket of trust in the man who came to his rescue.


	12. Chapter 12

There was a plan to be followed, there was a determinedly delicate pace to the way of things if the plan was to be as flawless as he expected it to be. But here he was about to throw that all away, to turn from the path of measured teasing and slowly gained trust and all for the intoxicating call of the boy’s lips and the way he shivered under his touch with more than evening cold.

He never thought he would be grateful for Joseph West interrupting such a moment, but he was, once he was back in his rooms after having parted from Barry and the suddenly arrived company. His foster father had ridden back with the rest of the household, early to leave the party but just in time to check the boy’s virtue – even if there was no excuse for it under the law. Barry had jumped back at the sound of horses and the spell between them had been broken.

Now the house was dark and silent, fifteen past midnight and everyone behind closed doors. He can feel the thrill of the dirt road already. It is a precarious trek through the hallways without stirring anyone awake and an outright gamble to open the right door in the enveloping darkness.

“Rise and rob,” he whispers under his breath as he approaches the bed in the middle of the room.

The beautiful thick covers on the bed seem to have a life of their own as the form nestled within stirs.

“As if I would have fallen to sleep,” Lisa whispers back as she climbs out of bed, dressed in her favorite shirt and trousers. “I found your mask and coat among my things. The weapons too?”

“I cannot think of these fine people finding it in themselves to disturb a Lady’s belongings,” Len answers, “but I would not put it past good Mr. West to search through my things.”

“No neither would I,” she says with a grin, “the look on his face when we came to find the both of you standing so close. You will tell me, won’t you brother?”

“There is nothing to tell,” Len shrugs as he takes his coat and mask from her when she hands them to him.

“You deny we interrupted a tender moment between you and your groom?”

“I’ve no need to deny anything to you,” he whispers shortly, “put your mask on and stop wasting moonlight.”

-

They find Mick a half mile east of the estate with their horses, standing too close to a fire that shouldn’t be lit in the first place. Len kicks dirt onto it until the flames are dead.

“You’ve no sense,” he says irritably, “did you not think you would call attention to yourself?”

“Plenty of high trees to keep the light in,” the man says as he shrugs.

“Yes,” Lisa says with an impatient roll of her eyes, “plenty of oaks to go up in smoke.”

“Alright enough,” Len says as he hitches up onto his horse, “we’ll survey this stretch of road and the surrounding wood– we will not be making any moves tonight, not until we have the lay of the land.”

Mick, mid-move to mount his horse, falls firmly back on his feet. “You jest.”

“You’ll know when I’m joking, now mount. I won’t have you getting lost in an escape when it can be easily helped.”

Lisa makes quiet but continuous complaints the entire night which Mick shortly agrees to, but by the time the night is dark enough and threatens to dawn all three of them can navigate that particular stretch of road and the surrounding wood without a map or the light of day.

“The boy,” Mick says gruffly as he takes a hold of the horses far enough from the estate once again, “what is it we stand to gain?”

“Cover,” he says simply, “I’ve told you as much.”

“There is always more,” he says.

“Not for now,” Len tells him as he wraps a cloak around Lisa and removes some leaves from her hair, “don’t worry your head with it.”

“Rest well Mick,” Lisa says with a smiles as she wraps the cloak tightly around her. “Let Len play his games.

-

“Did you rest well?” Barry asks him as Len takes a seat beside him at breakfast.

“Very well,” Len nods as he takes in the way the household situates itself around the table. Barry sits at the head, though he seems uncomfortable there, not the way most Lords preside over a meal. Len knows the appropriate thing to do is to sit directly opposite his husband at the far end, but he is not here in the business of appearing proper. He also privately enjoys the way Barry smiles into his cup as their knees brush.

“I told my brother of how wonderful your home is, Lord Allen,” Lisa says sweetly, “but I do not think he quite believed me until you welcomed him yourself.”

Across from her Ms. Snow chokes on her tea much to the concern of her husband and the amusement of Mr. Ramon.

Barry is a lovely shade this morning, he must remember to thank Lisa for it.

“I’m very glad you found your chambers comfortable,” Barry says, a bit too loudly, maybe in order for West and his daughter to hear him clear across the table.

There is quiet chatter among the others, but Len limits himself to observing in silence as Barry interacts with everyone. It is quite flattering, truly, to see Ramon so crestfallen at the lack of news about the dread Captain Cold in the morning journal.

“Cisco, really,” Iris chastises, though her smile is obvious. “You should not anticipate crime with such excitement.”

“Nothing ever happens here,” the man all but whines.

“And we are blessed for it,” the Professor says sternly, “are we not?”

“Oh, sure,” the young man says, clearing his throat, “I mean certainly.”

The Professor’s face falls into a smile similar to Iris’s and he reaches over to pat Ramon on the shoulder. “There now, I do understand the craving for excitement. I’ve not always been this old.”

The banter continues around the table, mostly focused around Mr. Ramon until West addresses Barry.

“Have you any word from Starling?”

Barry seems surprised by the question but quickly shakes his head.

“No, no I have not.”

“It is only I have never known Lord Queen to let your birthday go unacknowledged,” West remarks, “and this birthday in particular. I do not think he would wait until tomorrow to send his well wishes.”

Barry looks contemplative for a moment but nods. “You are right, it is most unlike him. But perhaps he has just forgotten-“

“Oliver would not forget,” Ms. Snow cuts in, “you are one of his dearest friends.”

The sentiment brings a blush upon Barry’s cheek much as the earlier insinuation had. Len is not quite sure he likes it half so much when the reaction is unconnected to him.

“Caitlin is right,” Ramon agrees, “Lord Queen would not forget your birthday. He sent you a carriage one year!”

Iris laughs as she sets down her cup.

“Oh, I remember that day! It is a beautiful carriage is it not? But it was so amusing,” she turns to Len as if to tell him personally, “he drove it here himself and told Barry that now he had no excuses for always being so late!”

“And yet I still am,” Barry says, poking fun at himself.

“And yet you still are, but today I must say the same,” a voice calls from the doorway. Len looks over to see a man clad in a hunter green coat fit for a king, standing proud as a soldier.

“Oliver!” Barry all but shouts as he jumps to his feet, his chair clattering behind him. Len holds his peace as Barry runs, excited as a child as he embraces the new arrival. The man wraps his arms around Barry with no more propriety than shame.

“Good day, Barry. My apologies for missing the wedding,” the man says in a tone that implies no regret, “I am only glad to be on time for your birthday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *in the voice of a 4th grader witnessing 4th grade drama* OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR MY LOVES!

Oliver holds Barry’s chin up and looks him over as he always does, as if he’s afraid someone has damaged Barry in some imperceptible way.

“You look well,” he says, as if finally satisfied with his inspection.

“As do you,” Barry says, his hand gripping Oliver’s arm with the delight of having him there. “Is Felicity with you?”

“She will join me before long, I rode ahead. You know me,” he says, with a shrug so quick it was easy to miss. Barry did know Oliver of course, he knew how cautious and suspicious he was in all situations. It was just like him to ride ahead of any carriage that held Felicity or his sister, just to be sure all was in order before they arrived. It was the first time he had ever done so in Barry’s home.

Oliver turns to the rest of the household and begs their pardon for interrupting the meal.

“Oliver,” Barry says, squaring his shoulder, “let me introduce my husband-“

“Lord Snart,” Oliver says sharply. It startles Barry but not more than it startles him to find Len standing just behind him, ready to lay a firm hand around his waist when he stumbles.

“Lord Queen,” Len says evenly, “it is a pleasure to meet you, after all these years.”

Barry blinks, staring back and forth between the two of them, “You know one another?”

“Lord Queen and I both have business in the Dutch West Indies,” Len says, without taking his eyes off Oliver, “our names have crossed.”

“But we have never had the…opportunity to meet,” Oliver adds, his gaze just as intent on Len. “I was surprised to hear that you would be wed to him, Barry.”

Barry cannot help but feel that he is being, at best, reprimanded for this action.

“Not surprised enough to come see for yourself,” Iris says as she stands and comes to join them, Joe standing hurriedly and coming at her heels in some vague attempt to keep her out of it.

“As I said I regret that I could not come earlier,” he tells her with a smile, “but I hope that my gift will make up for my absence. Felicity is on her way with it right now. Barry I wonder if perhaps you and Lord Snart might join me and Felicity for a ride this afternoon. I have some business in town that will occupy me until then.”

“Of course,” Barry answers, suddenly aware that Len is standing so close behind him that it almost feels as if they are brushing against one another. “We’d be delighted.”

Although it sounds like a perfectly civil response to Barry’s ears it seems to incense Oliver, if the hard look he gives Len is anything to go by.

“I will see you both later today then,” Oliver finally says, laying a firm hand on Barry’s shoulder, “it is a true pleasure to see you again, Barry.”

“And you,” Barry agrees, trying to keep himself composed as he feels Len’s hand rest on the back of his other shoulder. He fears, for a mad moment, that each of them might pull at him and tear him like warm bread. Oliver squeezes his shoulder just once before nodding and excusing himself from the room.

Cisco comes to him a moment later and then Len’s warm hand is gone, a chill running over his shoulder, “I told you he would not forget!”

The room buzzes back into life after Oliver steps out, Iris staring angrily after him, but all Barry can mind is the heat of Len’s hand no longer pressed against him like an anchor. He turns his face towards him, to find him staring intently in Oliver’s wake just like Iris.

“You do not mind, do you? I can tell Oliver-“

“What is there to mind? Actually I am quite glad your friend has made it early and that he will give you a birthday gift before I do,” he says quietly, privately.

Barry can hardly believe that Len has a gift for him, much less that he has any preference on when Barry would receive it. But even with all his astonishment all he can do is raise a curious eyebrow. 

“You will just have to be patient, Barry.” Len says, smirking in that way Barry thinks might just be naturally to him. “It is a virtue, they say, and you are a virtuous man.”

He says so with a certainty in Barry’s virtue that he himself cannot feel – especially not when those gem-like blue eyes look at him so directly.

 “I will have to be patient then,” Barry manages to whisper before Joe calls them all back to the table to finish their interrupted meal.

* * *

He feels like a boy at Christmas watching the sleek black carriage come down the drive. Now at midday it looks commanding and intimidating, but he knows Oliver prefers it for passing unnoticed through the night. He may never know what about his time marooned made Oliver so cautious, perhaps all of it, but Barry notes the signs of it in everything Oliver does. Still inside that carriage is the one person that has ever made Oliver throw every caution to the wind; there came a woman with more intelligence than she was willing to hide, no title, and no devotion to the church. Every single one of Oliver’s friends had made some snide or wary comment about the daughter of no one in particular with a foreign faith who had stolen Oliver’s heart – every single one except Barry, who adored Felicity and found her to be a kindred spirit. He is sure that had she had a title she would have made the same offer as Oliver, only he isn’t sure he would have been able to deny her half so easily.

He wonders if Len -standing beside him with a casual elegance he is sure half those who scorn him would never expect - will mind terribly the way he inevitably behaves around Felicity. Iris has commented more than once that they are ridiculously effusive around each other and that in another circumstance they would have had a beautiful romance. But the true circumstances were that Barry could never marry for love, and even if he could have – Felicity had already found the love of her life.

“Barry!”

He hears before he sees her, the blond ringlets of her hair emerging before the rest of her from the window of her still moving carriage. It was just the sort of thing for her to do, the sort of thing Barry would do, and the sort of thing that would drive Oliver mad with worry.

Barry takes a step forward as the carriage stops and turns look at Len, who is a silent as he has been most of the day with curious surveying eyes.

“Please do not take offense for anything you are about to witness,” Barry mumbles, his cheeks burning with the thought of what Len might be thinking of him with all of his actions in the short time they have been married. “Felicity is so dear a friend it is as if she were a second sister. If I had not seen Iris in half so long I would be just as –“

“Barry!” She shouts again, finally jumping out of the carriage, her bonnet flying right off as she rushes towards him. All his thoughts of apology are forgotten as he catches her and swings her around easily as a doll, still clinging to her as he set her on her feet.

“Felicity,” he says with a grin he feels take over his face, “oh please never be gone so long again!”

“Oh, I have missed you terribly,” she says as she wraps her arms around him and squeezes him like a feather pillow.

“And I you,” he says, but his eyes escape to his husband who still stands by the steps, eyes still curious. He pulls away from Felicity, suddenly feeling guilty despite excusing himself before-hand. Arrangement or not and regardless of Len’s scandalous assurances that any…indiscretions would be tolerated, he cannot stand to think Len might consider his intentions towards Felicity anything but brotherly.

“Felicity, come. You must meet my husband.”

Something interesting plays in Felicity’s eyes, a mixture of concern and delight that would not be understood in the eyes of anyone less like himself. She turns and gasps to find Len standing so close to their affectionate display, falling to an ill practiced curtsy and bow of her head.

“My Lord, forgive me, I did not see you in my rush to greet Barry – I mean Lord Allen – I mean –“

“Please, my Lady, there is no need. I am only glad to see my husband is so well loved by his friends.”

Felicity smiles, a giggle escaping her before she can contain herself.

“I thank you, my Lord. But it seems Barry has not informed you I am no Lady. Just Miss Felicity Smoak if you please.”

“If it so pleases you, Miss Smoak,” Len says, so charming his smile that Barry feels his heart stutter although the man has not taken his eyes from Felicity. “Do forgive me, it is only you give every air of nobility. King’s titles be damned when one enjoys so natural a grace.”

Another stifled laugh escapes felicity as Len bows to her as if she were a duchess.

“By my word, Barry,” she breathes out, still mirthful, “but you’ve managed to marry a courtly knight when we thought them all by gone.”

Barry wants to say something, to save himself from the dazzled stupor he has fallen into. He realizes he secretly feared Len would be rude to Felicity, for all that people find wrong with her, and to see him treat her so gallantly has taken the floor from beneath his feet.

“On the contrary, Miss Smoak, I think it is I who have managed against all odds to marry the last gentleman born to this land. Though I think he is quite beside himself with excitement at your arrival. May I escort you inside while he collects himself?”

It takes a moment for Barry to collect himself indeed, and by the time he does Len and Felicity are three paces ahead of him. He hurries after them and sets to step beside Len, who has offered Felicity his arm, yes, but turns his eyes to look at Barry so that there could be no mistake. Len might have Barry’s friend charmed and pleased with such a welcome, but it is Barry who he has managed to enchant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How to get in Barry Allen's Pants: STEP 1  
> Charm the skirt hoops off Felicity Smoak first.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have lost the reigns of this story entirely, LET'S SEE WHERE IT GOES HUH?

“A gift for _Barry_ ,” Lisa says for the third time, having tried every other possible inflection of the phrase.

“Yes,” Len grits out as he tugs on his boots. “Or did you not see the monstrosity that Queen has just given him.”

“He’s already married you, Lenny,” she says, clearly teasing, “it hardly matters how large and luxurious a stallion Lord Queen has presented your husband.”

“Could you be just an inch less vulgar, Lisa?”

“No that wouldn’t be any fun,” she shrugs. “So what do you plan to give him?”

“I will just have to think of something,” he says as he pulls on his coat.

She sighs and steps towards him, brushing off imaginary dust from his shoulders.

“I forget you have other riding jackets, it’s so jarring to see you in anything but blue.”

“Yes well, now we have to go riding with dear Oliver and Miss Smoak, all the while pretending that a gift of that magnitude is not both ridiculous and inappropriate –“

“Oh jealousy paints you pretty,” Lisa says, her voice filled with delight as she touches her fingertips to his cheek. “Almost as pretty as that tall red horse. Honestly did you see that coat? It’s so bright and –“

“I saw the god damn beast, Lisa,” he snaps, “go find some better entertainment than irritating me.”

“Touchy,” she says with a smile, stepping away. “Go on, I’m sure your husband is anxiously waiting, sitting up on Queen’s stallion.”

“Lisa I swear-“

“Oh go on, go on,” she says between laughs as she pushes him out the door.

None of her teasing nor the delight she takes in his irritation, none of it helps his predicament. He needs a gift for Barry, something that will take his breath away. Something that will make him forget that ridiculous horse and the ridiculous smile it put on his face and the obvious smugness of his dear friend Lord Queen.

-

Barry rides far in front of the group, testing the animal’s speed. It is more than impressive, the kind of beast who would win fortunes at races if it were not that Lord Oliver Queen had found it fit to give it to Len’s husband like a play thing.

“You know,” Miss Smoak says as she rides to Len’s left, “he will still be at least a quarter hour late wherever he is expected, no matter how many fast animals and vehicles Oliver presents him with.”

“So I’ve heard,” Len answers, “but he has yet to be late to any appointment with me.”

“I’ve heard,” Queen says from Len’s right, “that might be because you tend to appear quite unannounced.”

“Perhaps it is an ideal combination then,” Len counters, “for he cannot be tardy if all he knows is I will be there when the time is right.”

“I think that sounds wonderful,” Smoak says before Queen can rebut him, “that Barry may have that trust in someone and not have to worry about silly things like time.”

Barry rides back towards them, startling all of their horses with the aggressive speed of his. He stops short and grins directly at Len like an impertinent beam of sunlight.

“Len you must have a go, he’s incredible.”

“I think you should keep your gift to yourself a while longer,” Len says, leaning forward and securing Barry’s attention.

“No, please. I insist.”

“A compromise then,” he offers, “come closer and hold the animal still.”

He hasn’t done this since…probably last week. Switching horses while mounted is a necessary skill, often mid run, in his line of business. But he takes more delight in Barry’s reaction than in his accomplishment when he manages to seat himself behind him and wrap his arms around his waist.

“If you’d be so kind, Miss Smoak,” he says as he hands her the reigns to his own animal.

She takes them, looking absolutely thrilled at this development. Len does not spare Lord Queen a glance to assess his reaction.

“Well then,” he says as he wraps his arm more tightly around Barry, “go on and show off your present.”

He can feel the warmth of Barry’s back against his chest, the way the boy pulls in a hard breath and lets a shudder run through his body.

Barry doesn’t waste another moment and yes, the horse is strong, but Len can tell that Barry is more than an excellent rider. The animal likely would never reach this kind of speed with someone else and after all it gives him the perfect excuse to pull the man closer to him.

-

In an effort not to put too fine a point on his distaste for Queen, Len makes himself scarce after the ride. With some vague excuse about some business in town he makes his way cautiously to Mick’s, who in turn has a different but no less annoying opinion on his need to give Barry a gift of some sort.

“Snart you know if you needed a boy I would’ve gotten you a willing one already, like I always do. You want to give away our goods so that Allen will give away his now.”

“I don’t need a boy,” Len snarls, “I simply-“

“Course you need a boy, I could tell you were getting an itch. It’s just you’ve gotten capricious and decided you want this particular boy for no reason I can discern.”

Len decides to ignore the jibe about Barry and focus on the spread of jewels before him. Most of them were pieces crafted for women, of course; necklaces, earrings, bracelets. There are a few rings that could pass, but they are all too slim for even Barry’s slender fingers.

“Ring,” he whispers. “Mick where’d you put my personal lot?”

Maybe some would think it imprudent, even of a thief like himself, to entrust belongings both stolen and personal with someone like Mick Rory. They would be right, of course, because anything in relation to Mick was imprudent, but Len trusted him regardless. Mick was many things, but he was not greedy – it made him an excellent partner.

“Yet they say I’m the lunatic,” Mick mutters as he hands over the only piece of his personal lot that Len could possibly mean. Perhaps the man knew him too well.

“It will fit him,” is all Len says as he takes the ring from Mick’s large hand.

“And you are fit for Bedlam,” Mick answers.

He looks up from the ring and fixes the other man with a glare. “For giving my husband a ring?”

“If you tell yourself that is all it is then yes,” Mick counters, “unless you’ve forgotten how you came about that ring.”

“As if I could,” Len snaps, “although I will have to spin another tale for it.”

He looks back at the ring and wonders briefly if Mick isn’t right after all. This is his mother’s ring, the first thing he stole that he didn’t sell for food. The moment he saw the scar across his mother’s face and knew he could do nothing against the landowner who struck her, he decided that the ring that marred her cheek would be hers in reparation. His mother loved that ring as much as she loved his quick fingers and quicker mind, she loved it like she loved him, fiercely and until the minute she drew her last breath using the last of her strength to cross the ocean and claim his English name and all that was rightfully his.

But there was nothing to claim once he crossed the ocean, nothing but the name of a drunk indebted father who was too glad to see a son, even a bastard son, after the girl child still crying in her crib was held to blame for killing his too young bride. Leonard was fourteen, four months after meeting the bastard, when he inherited a pile of dirt, a mountain of debt, and an infant. Still, the ring was the one thing he would not sell. And here he was now, contemplating giving this precious thing away to make the light in Barry Allen’s eyes shine only for him. Perhaps Mick was right after all, perhaps he has lost his mind in this particular bet.


	15. Chapter 15

Barry startles awake. The night is a wet dark, black as tar, when he jumps up in his bed. Nightmares pester and haunt him more nights than not, the screams of his mother, the torches and the shadows, the clatter of a blood soaked blade upon the floor. He shakes his head, shakes away the sleep and the dread and takes in the room around him, wondering what if not the dark dreams, startled him awake.

“Len?”

“Barry,” he hears soft whispered words come from the door, “I’ve frightened you.”

“Think nothing of it,” Barry whispers back, throwing the covers off of himself and touching his bare feet to the icy floors. “Is something the matter?”

“No. Do forgive me, it was inconsiderate of me to come to your chamber so late.”

What lingered of sleep flew away from Barry’s chest. It was past any decent hour and there was a man, his husband, calling at his door while Barry was in a night shirt that might as well have not been. Barry flushed, glad that at least this time the cover of night would hide the ever present color in his cheeks around the man.

“I do not mind,” Barry whispers, “what… what brings you here?”

“A silly thing,” Len tells him softly, though the apology has fallen from his tone and been replaced by the usual confidence.

“I’m sure it is not,” Barry answers, stepping forward.

“The clock in the hall, it has struck midnight. It was just a tired fancy , with such a large family and such…esteemed friends gathered. Well, I wanted the privilege of honoring your birthday first.”

Barry was speechless. It was such a… such a gentle gesture, such a display of – of what? Care? Fondness? Affection?

“Like I said, it was a tired fancy and now I have disturbed your sleep,” Len says, turning to leave.

“No,” Barry says, too loudly in the late of night, “no please don’t go.”

“No?” Len asks back. The word carries so much, the chime of his voice laden with such heavy purpose that Barry, feeling younger than ever on the day marking his age, loses his nerve.

“Not until you’ve seen your purpose fulfilled.”

“My purpose, is it?”

“Yes… to bid me a good birthday.”

“Oh, Barry,” Len says, the amusement clear in his voice, “well then I should get to it should I not?”

Barry nods until he realizes that Len must have a difficult time of seeing the gesture in the deep of the dark. But it matters not, because Barry can feel the coolness of Len’s hand against his cheek and the softness of his lips against his own. It is so that for a moment Barry can’t be certain if he had really come awake, or if he had been gifted with a dream so perfect and veiled in the moonless night. But the hand that does not hold his cheek or pull him closer into the kiss knots together with his left, and between their two palms he can feel the cold chill of metal against his skin. He pulls away and as he does can feel the way Len’s lips shift from a kiss into a smirk. He takes his hand from Barry’s cheek and curls the fingers of Barry’s left around the tiny object in his hand.

“What is this,” he says more than asks, breathless and near panting.

“I think it customary on a birthday to give a gift, and proper of husbands to give one another rings.”

Barry looks down at his hand, where in the dark he can barely catch a glimmer upon his palm.

“But why give it now? I can hardly see that which you’ve given me.”

“Some things are not to see,” Len says softly, “but to feel. You need only to know it is precious to me and that now it is yours.”

Barry finds himself speechless once again, but his hand curls into a fist around the ring as if to protect it like a sacred charge.

Len leans forward again, but he lays his kiss on Barry’s brow and chuckles low and dark at the huff that Barry gives.

“Put it upon your finger and go to sleep, husband, and when you wake pretend it has always been there.”

“And there it shall stay, like you?” Barry asks, feeling emboldened by his husband’s words.

“Yes,” Len says without hesitation, “very much like me. Rest well, Barry.”

Barry wants so much for him to stay, but he does not know the words. He does not know how to say that he wants, much less to give shape to those desires. Instead he watches the faint outline of Len slip out of the door and swallows the temptation to give him chase. He slips the ring on to his finger and finds it strangely warm and heavy, it is a comfort. As he lays back to sleep he wonders at the strangeness of what has just happened, from Len slipping in at the dead of night to giving him something, something that seems so important that he had to give it all in feeling.

-

When Barry wakes, blinking against the sun. He remembers last night like a strange lingering dream, lingering like the heaviness in on his hand. When his bleary eyes focus on his hand it is all he can do not to fall straight out of it. The ring looks as heavy as it feels, large and conspicuous on his finger. The gold is so bright it looks yellow and the ruby cut so that its own color seems to emanate. It isn’t gaudy, but it isn’t subtle and he wonders what the others will say when they see it – and there is no doubt that they will note it right away. What Barry would give to glimpse into his husband’s mind, to know what moved him to give Barry such a gift and what the ring that seemed to hold such meaning truly meant.  


	16. Chapter 16

Len ignores the pleasure that warms his chest as he watches Barry wave away his beloved friend while wearing Len's ring. It glints in the sun in a way it hasn’t in years while it hid first against his mother’s chest and then against his own. When he finds that he cannot ignore the delight he feels, he tells himself it is delight in the irony; the piece that glittered on the hand that struck his cheek now rests on the hand that caresses it. It marks that hand and the man it belongs to as his. No, that is the wrong kind of pleasure again.

“Where is Master West?” he asks once Queen and his companion had gone and he and Barry returned to the hall.

“Most everyone is in town, there is traveling market – perhaps you’d like to go?”

“Not particularly,” he dismisses, “unless you would.”

Barry shakes his head. “I don’t… I don’t like to be out in town unless it’s necessary. Too many people like to point and stare and it makes me ache to be home.”

“It would have been a very uneasy life,” Len notes, “married to Thawne.”

“A life I no longer have to contemplate,” Barry says, “I owe that to you.”

“There is no need,” Len reminds him.

“I know,” Barry says softly, “I understand our arrangement.”

There is a sadness in Barry's demeanor that makes Leonard itch, makes him want to smooth away the slight frown at his lips.

"I see it fits your perfectly," he says as he motions at the ring on Barry's finger.

“Yes,” Barry says, smiling brightly down at his ring. “Have I thanked you properly for your gift?”

“That depends,” Len says, his voice low and confident, “on what you think is proper.”  
Barry smiles, casting his eyes down in a way Len might consider coy. His movements are stilted and a bit awkward as he leans in and presses his lips soft closed lips to Len’s cheek. He can’t help it, tells himself it is just pretense and act when he inevitably smiles.

“Thank you husband,” Barry says softly before stepping back. Len catches his hand before he can move too far and lifts it up, so that the ring is held up to the level of his eyes.

“It suits you well,” he comments.

“You told me it was precious," Barry says quietly.

Len considers, what he should say, how much he can get away with.

“It was my mother’s,” he says. He looks up to catch Barry’s eye and gauge his reaction. Ah, so he knows. He can see it in the curiosity the boy tries to stamp down. But of course.

“It was one of her only possessions,” he says, by way of explanation. Barry blushes when he realizes.

“I had heard – but I didn’t… I wasn’t sure…”

“Yes,” Len says, dropping his hand, “she was a slave. Held as property for most of her life. It’s not easy to tell by looking at me, is it?”

“That isn’t what I meant I mean…" the boy hurries to say, "I just try not to listen to rumor.”

“It’s no rumor. My mother was a victim of the glory of our empire and I am vile product of violence,” he says plainly.

Barry pales and Len does not take his eyes from him. “Does it disgust you, my lineage?”

“It enrages me,” he whispers, “that such things can happen with impunity, that good people are trampled under the foot of greed, and that I inadvertently enjoy the spoils of their pain. It infuriates me that anyone has ever had the insolence to call you vile.”

Len breathes in, trying not to show his surprise at Barry’s words or the way they warm him. He takes Barry’s hand again and runs his thumb over the ring.

Barry continues, “For all the things that are said and lied about you what I know to be true is that you are devoted to your sister, your only family. I can only hope that you can see my family as your own, some day.”

Everything is going according to plan, Len tells himself, when he leans in and pulls Barry into a kiss. Deep and different and damned.

* * *

"Barry," Len whispers as he pulls away, "I -"

"I understand," Barry says as he steps back, "I know this is all business but... you've given me something precious to you. Is it foolish to think that - we might get to know one another? I just mean now that we are bound for life after all," he ends with a breathless laugh.

"Some would say that trying to get to know any truth about me is a foolish endeavor," Len warns.

"You did call me foolish on the day we were wed," Barry notes with a smile, "I take it this is some kind of compliment in your vernacular."

Len can't help a smile but he does manage to smother it into a smirk.

"You've given me so much I can't help... forgive me but I can't help but wonder what it is you want in return," Barry finally says.

"I want only to be your husband," Leonard reminds him, "with all the respectability it entails. My sister was born to be a lady and she is treated like rabble because of me."

"If she is treated as anything less than the lady she is," Barry says somberly, "it is the cruelty and ignorance of the small minded."

"Why Lord Allen," Len says in teasing tones, "perhaps you are not as foolish as I thought you to be."

This time, when Barry bites his lip, Len can't be certain that the action is as thoughtless and innocent as it had once been.

"Perhaps I might surprise you yet," Barry concedes.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO OUT OF PRACTICE this was VERY HARD TO WRITE? I hope it's good!

Barry lets out a long rattling breath hoping he could expel his nerves just as easily as the air from his lungs. The night is cold as all of spring has been and his state of carefully orchestrated state of undress certainly does not help. He looks over himself in the mirror and feels his stomach go heavy with dread. Open night shirt or no, he is just as pale and reed-like as he has always been. He certainly could not stir passions in the most eager of young ladies, how could he ever hope to tempt someone as handsome and worldly as Len?

Still, he squares his shoulders. All he can do is put himself out and hope for the best. He stands and wavers for another few minutes, in the end it is only the sight of his ring that makes up his mind.

A light still shines under Len’s door despite the late hour and Barry takes the sight as a good omen. He steels himself to whatever may result of his daring and knocks on the door – his breath catching as he hears the sounds of Len’s movements within.

“Barry,” Len says calmly, impassive and unsurprised by his presence.

“What can I do for you?”

The words choke him and he knows someone more brave and bold than he would take the opportunity to imply his intent. Instead Barry splutter s and stammers, pulling his open robe tight around him.

“I am so sorry,” he says after a moment, his eyes downcast and his nerve lost. “I do not know what I was thinking please-“

Barry feels his traitorous skin turn hot under Len’s gaze as it runs over his body and his state of dress.

“Might you perhaps have been thinking,” he says low and whispered in the cover of night, “that you would like to spend tonight in your husband’s bed?”

Barry swallows and tries to think up a half-way dignified escape from the hole he’s dug himself. He felt so foolish that he could not stand to look Len in the eye.

“Barry” he says again, only this time he tucks a finger underneath his chin to coax up his gaze. Barry looks up at last and finds Len’s bright blue eyes are full of something layered and guarded that makes Barry shiver.

“Come on in, Barry,” he says coolly.

Barry follows him inside, feeling his embarrassment rise up in him as the door shuts behind him.

“Len I – I should go. I apologize I should not have come here at this hour. There is no reason for you to - what I mean is you’ve no obligation to respond to my thoughtless shameless stupidity in any way.”

“Barry,” Len says as if it were his favorite word in the world. “I know you to be quite an intelligent at times unbearably modest man,” he says, his mouth near smiling, “and by the looks of you there is some premeditation to your being here this night.”

“I’m sorry,” Barry whispers again, his eyes shut as if he could make the entire evening disappear.

“Are we not wed?” Len asks, his voice too close and soothing.

Barry nods, unable to make himself answer.

“And do you desire me, Barry,” he whispers, “in the way husbands may do?”

Barry swallows and once again nods. Len is, somehow, impossibly, closer.

“Then why do you tremble in such mortification?”

Barry opens his eyes, unable to run from Len and lacking the desire to do so. Len looks at him as if it were the first time, looks at him with something akin to wonder.

-

This boy stands before him, shaking inch by inch. His touch seems to calm him in parts, but where their skin does not touch he trembles.  Len thinks perhaps it is anticipation, innocent nerves. He does not know. Len, who was not afforded any kind of gentleness to begin with, he does not know that he can be gentle. He uses his hands, his lips, the parts of him that have been honed with more elegant skills.

When Barry, as he settles on the bed, shivers with the cold – or the expectation of things to come – it pulls at something in him, something deep and buried and secret. Here he is his little lord, his brave youth in scarlet, his – for now, under every conceivable pretense. He is unmarred by scars or signs of hostile intent, and though the world has been cold and cutting and at times vindictive towards him it has not, for the most part, been cruel.

He watches Barry’s eyes as they travel over Len’s body. Certainly he knows he is pleasing to look at from afar, but Barry’s fingertips on his marred skin tell a deeper story. A rope of scar where a broken bottle welcomed him into his father’s household, a badly healed burn from trying to keep Mick alive against every effort on part of the other man – for a moment he dreads when Barry’s hands will run over his back and feel the never quite dulled welts of the three lashes that taught him well never to get caught again, not even for something as inconsequential and necessary as bread.

“You tremble still,” he whispers, his lips pressed against the warmth of Barry’s throat. “Are you frightened?”

Barry swallows, licking his lips and shaking his head quickly.

“I’ll do nothing you don’t want, Barry,” Len says as he pulls away slightly.

Before Len can pull away any further both of Barry’s arms wrap around his neck, bringing him forward.

“I’m not frightened of you, I – alright maybe I am. But I make the choices I make and I want the things that I want,” Barry says all in a rush.

 Len surges forward and kisses him, he kisses him to shut him up and to drive away the maddening thoughts in his mind – the ones that tell him that this is a step without retreat. He takes his time, brushing his lips over Barry’s shoulders and speaking low as if too much sound would break something tenuous between them.

“Husband, you are a foolish man,” he whispers.

“You’ve said so before,” Barry says, his breath stuttering when Len does away with his clothes all together.

“You are a foolish, naïve,” he says, breaking each word with a kiss across his body, “unrepentant brave man.”

After that every touch seems to jolt him, but he accompanies each with a sound of encouragement, a mewl or moan of pleasure that spurs Len on. When at last Len wraps his hand around him he wonders if it will be more than seconds before Barry falls to pieces. He wouldn’t mind if it was.

“Len,” he breathes out, “oh God-“

“Shhh,” Len says through a smirk, “mustn’t wake the house.”

His jesting warning does nothing to subdue Barry’s voice or his praise or his promises. Between heaving breaths he swears and curses, he whimpers in Len’s ear that he’s everything he ever wanted and more. Len kisses him, to shut him up, to keep him held together - but it doesn’t chase away the sound of Barry’s broken cry when he shook in Len’s arms and dug his nails into the flesh of his shoulder blades.

When Barry’s eyes blink open once again he looks dazed and delighted, as if he were seeing moonlight for the first time just looking in Len’s eyes.

“I didn’t think it would be so –“

Len waits, an eyebrow raised as he rests his elbow on the mattress and hovers over him.

“So?”

“So much,” Barry says, with a breathless chuckle. “I must – “

“You must do nothing,” Len says, cutting him off before he can finish his thought, “except for sleep.”

“But you must want-“

“I want nothing of the sort. This,” he says quiet and firm, “may be part of our arrangement, but it is not a transaction.”

Barry licks his lips and nods, slow and sleepy, but before Len can imagine that Barry will collect himself and go the man moves close and wraps his long limbs around Len. Then he’s setting his head to rest on Len’s chest as soon as he stumbles onto his back.  

“Goodnight, husband,” he whispers as he settles himself on Len’s body, leaving no questions asked about where he would spend the night. Len considers, for a moment, sending Barry off to where he came from, telling him he’d had his fun giving him what he wanted but it was time to set the record straight – to keep it business between them. Instead, he finds that he wraps his arm over the dozing body of this man who for a moment in time is his. He thinks of all the treasures and secrets he has stolen, and wonders if the time has come in his life where he has gone too far.


End file.
